


Good Boy

by Kellyscams



Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:17:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kellyscams/pseuds/Kellyscams
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bucky woke with a strange longing in the pit of his stomach. Something was on his mind, something that lingered within the haze of his dreams. He couldn’t figure out what it was. Not until he went to the kitchen and saw Clint. He was standing by the fridge, leaning one arm atop the open door. When his hand lazily scratched at his belly, just touching the brim of his boxers, Bucky’s breath caught in his throat. </p><p>An image of his lips against that belly, of Clint’s hands in his hair, of naked bodies and legs wrapped around each other flashed before his eyes. </p><p>Uh-oh. </p><p>Clint took notice of him and straightened up. He gave Bucky a sloppy grin. </p><p>“What’s up, Barnes?”</p><p>Bucky blinked a few times, his mouth opening just enough to say one thing. </p><p>“N-nothing.”</p><p>He slowly backed out of the kitchen, ignoring the baffled look on Clint’s face, fully aware he had a <i>lot</i> to think about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Boy

This isn’t the first time Clint is alone with Bucky in the Tower, but it is the first time Clint notices something different about Barnes. It all started yesterday morning in the kitchen, when the guy was staring at him like he was the most intimidating person in the world--and given that Bucky regularly exchanged witty banter and playful blows with Captain America, Clint doubted he was all that intimidated by him. While he was pretty sure he could rumble with James Barnes and escape with his life, Clint was also fairly sure the damage he could do with that metal arm alone was incentive to never let that happen. Still, Bucky had stood there gaping at him, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, until he backed out of the room and disappeared as silently as he showed up. 

Clint didn’t see very much of him for the rest of the day. Not that he would claim the two of them were BFFs or anything, but it wasn’t like Bucky to avoid him--which he so clearly was. He didn’t avoid people too much anymore at all, especially when the Tower was near empty. Once Bucky started opening up more, going to sessions with Sam, staying up late with Steve and Tasha, he seemed to be the type of person that enjoyed being in other’s company. Like he didn’t _want_ to be alone. The few other times he was there with just Clint in the Tower they spent mostly together--they even built a huge pillow fort once. 

But all day yesterday, whenever Clint came into a hall where Bucky happened to be, Barnes would turn and go back the other way. When Bucky came into the gym to see Clint already there, he stumbled a little--something Clint had never seen him do--and left. Same when Clint went to the range for target practice. When he first saw Bucky there, he thought maybe he’d get him to loosen up by challenging him to see which of the two had the better aim. Only instead of loosening up, Bucky tensed before politely declining and leaving. 

Clint was starting to worry that he had done something wrong, or that maybe something had triggered the guy and he was too freaked out to say anything. He had considered asking him what was up. Hey, sometimes all someone needs is an invitation to chat, right? That’s what he heard on Oprah once anyway. So last night, instead of hanging out in the living room, watching movies like they had done other nights they were together, Clint had gone to find Bucky, who had shut himself away in his room. When he got there though, Clint heard him on the phone. 

“So, it’s okay, Nat?” Bucky was asking, and then paused to presumably let Tasha answer the question Clint hadn’t heard. “Really? I can like both?” There was another pause. “It’s always been different with Steve.”

Not wanting to eavesdrop--well, okay, Clint _did_ want to hear what was going on, if only to make sure that Bucky was all right, but he didn’t want to do it that way--he backed away and left Bucky to deal with his conversation with Natasha on his own. Clint thought maybe he’d eventually come out of his room and join him. But he never did, and they didn’t see each other the whole night.

So when he wakes up today, on the couch, only in boxers and needing to wipe the drool from his face, Clint is anxiously awaiting the same cold shoulder treatment. Only he smells something delicious wafting out from the kitchen. Nose and belly leading the way, he assumes that someone has returned home and hopes it’s Thor. Thor is ridiculously talented in the kitchen, and even though the demi-god prefers Pop-tarts and cereal, he really whips up a mean batch of pancakes. Clint is shocked when he gets to the kitchen.

No, Thor isn’t home and neither is anyone else. It’s Bucky. Bucky is making breakfast. The counter is covered in bowls, splattered with flour, dripping with thick batter, two egg shells leaking, but he’s standing by the stove, big bowl tucked in his metal arm, while he flips a pancake with his natural one. He’s even wearing an apron that says the word **stud** atop a muffin. Clint isn’t sure what to do, what to even _make_ of this, but he certainly doesn’t want to make the guy feel bad or uncomfortable. He just stands there for a minute, thinking Bucky hasn’t even noticed him. But then the left side of Bucky’s mouth pulls up and his eyes glide to where Clint is lingering in the doorway.

“Morning!” He greets brightly. “Sleep well?”

Was this the same dude as yesterday? The guy who wouldn’t look at him, let alone talk to him all chipper and whatnot.

“Uh, yeah,” Clint replies, taking a few steps into the room. “Yeah, I, uh, did. Yanno, sleep...well.”  
Bucky smiles wider. “I’m making breakfast.”  
“Yes, I see that.” 

He marches up to the counter and swipes a finger through some of the flour. That makes Bucky chuckle. 

“Yeah, it took a little bit to get the hang of it,” He shrugs a shoulder. “Didn’t want us to go hungry though. And I wasn’t about to rely on _your_ cooking skills.”

Clint’s mouth falls open. What? Was this even for real? Did this guy just put down his ability to cook?

“Whoa, whoa!” He holds his hands out. “I’ll have you know, that my sandwiches are to _die_ for. And I mean…”  
“You mean you’ve poisoned someone?”

Bucky’s mouth turns up into a grin like Clint’s never seen before. It’s cool and confident and _god damn, wow, that’s heart melting_. Dumbfounded by the sudden attention he has on Bucky’s lips, Clint just stands there for a moment before cracking a smile of his own. 

“Well, yanno, see if I ever make you a sandwich then.”

 _Oh yeah, real smooth, Barton._

But Bucky laughs and pulls out one of the chairs at the table, nodding to it as he does. There’s something about the look in his eyes, the smolder in them, that makes Clint’s legs move automatically. It’s not only until after he’s seated that he realizes he sat because Bucky wanted him to, not because he had intended on walking in and sitting down. How did that even happen?

Not that he has too much time to think about it. Bucky places a full plate of food down in front of him and it smells so good that Clint just dives right into it. And, damn it to hell, it tastes just as good--better even--than it smells. His sandwiches got nothing on this so it’s not like he has a leg to stand on in the cooking department. No matter. Clint can concede to Bucky’s superior culinary skills as long as he doesn’t have to survive on the frozen food in the back of the freezer the whole time they’re together. 

Fixing himself his own plate, Bucky joins him at the table. Seems things have returned back to normal except that when Bucky sits down he starts talking. It’s not that they never talk when they’re alone. They do, mostly cause one time Steve and Natasha insisted that the two go out for coffee since Clint had some recent experience in the whole “had my mind taken over by someone else” thing. They didn’t exactly share bro stories with one another that time--or any other time--but it did break the ice enough that Bucky appeared a little more comfortable around Clint. 

Only now Bucky’s talking with a slight smirk on his lips, those piercing eyes of his fixed on Clint, and Clint is usually quick with the comebacks and almost always ready with a clever quip, but today he seems to come up short. Because today, Bucky’s voice is somehow both rough as a back alley rumble and smooth as fucking silk at the same time, and he has Clint in stitches and then blushing and then back in stitches before the blush even registers. 

The fucker even somehow convinces Clint into doing the dishes and at first Clint thinks it was his idea. He’s halfway done with them when he realizes he’s been suckered into the chore by soft words and a mesmerizing set of eyes. 

“The hell?” Clint wonders as he glances around the empty kitchen. 

Bucky is no where to be seen, Clint is up to his elbows in dirty dishes and soap suds, and though he wants to go find the guy who’s responsible for all this, he just can’t. He’s got to get these dishes done because that’s what Bucky wants him to do. Something about Bucky had cooked so it’s up to Clint to clean up if he wants another meal from him. He finishes up, neatly stacking all the dishes and bowls back where they belong and then Clint heads off to find Barnes so he can give him an ear full. 

Kid’s in the shooting range. Target practice. Right, so, Clint _was_ going to chew him out for conning him into dish duty, but when he sees Barnes there--rifle steadied, still like he’s carved out of stone, and gaze so focused on the target in front of him Clint knows the world around him has dissolved to nothing--he can’t bring himself to say a word. There’s no way he’s gonna make that shot though. None. Clint himself has never come close to…

“Son of a bitch,” Clint mumbles when Bucky’s shot hits the center of the bullseye. “How in the…”

The smirk that turns up Bucky’s mouth makes Clint think he knew he was there the whole time, even though he’s still positioned by his rifle. When he moves away, the flick of his eyebrows screams arrogance and he gives a little shrug. 

“Eh, that’s nothing.” He boasts. “Coulda taken that in my sleep.”

Bucky hits the button on the wall next to him and sends the target even further back, his eyes never leaving Clint’s face. While he doesn’t want to break the eye contact, Clint can’t help look to see just how far he’s moving the thing back. He can’t help his jaw dropping a bit when it finally stops--at almost twice the distance it was at to start with. Licking his teeth, Bucky moves back in, adjusts his rifle only slightly and takes his shot. Clint has to squint--and that’s _not_ cause he’s getting old, nah-ah, no way--to see that the bullet went straight through the target’s head. 

“Fuck me…” He mumbles, getting a quiet chuckle from Barnes.  
“Come ‘ere,” 

Bucky waves him over as he brings the target forward again, this time switching it out for a new one. He puts it back to where it originally was and moves to the side so that Clint can take position behind the rifle. When Clint feels Bucky’s hand at his waist and sliding to his belly, his stomach clenches.

“Tighten up,” Bucky murmurs practically right in his ear. He’s close enough that Clint can feel his warm breath hit the side of his neck, and he does as what he’s told. “Shoulders down. Relax your face. Now take the shot.”

Hugging his finger around the trigger, Clint presses gently, just enough to get it to move. The way he’s positioned, he barely feels the ricochet when the gun goes off. Not that he ever has any trouble with that anyway, but now, with Bucky’s advice, it’s practically nonexistent, and he makes the shot, almost dead center. 

“Well shit.” Clint breathes.  
Bucky chuckles softly. “Not bad.” he compliments. “Here, try it this way.”

They stay down there for a while, so long, in fact, that they skip lunch. At first, Clint can’t even believe that he was still able to learn something new enough that it’d make an improvement in his skills. He is, after all, a good decade older than this guy. Which makes it easy to forget sometimes that Barnes actually has him by a good 50 years. After a bit, the fact that Bucky is actually schooling him no matter how much Clint improves is no longer a bother. 

The way he flips his fingers through his hair, and is always leaning his body towards Clint when he talks, makes him think that Bucky is really enjoying himself. Then it occurs to Clint that Bucky’s hands are lingering on his sides whenever he repositions him. He knows it’s crazy, knows it’s nuts, but for a second he thinks Bucky might be flirting with him. The thought leaves him dizzy. Not that he _minds_ if Bucky is flirting with him. Quite the contrary. James “Bucky” Barnes, flirting with him? Yeah, he’s not gonna complain. It’s just, Clint thought he was only into women, and if there were any bisexual inclinations, he figured it would be for Captain America. Hell, even _he_ had wondered what Cap would be like in bed. Given Steve and Bucky’s relationship, Clint wouldn’t be surprised if they were getting it on. He was also under the impression that there _was_ something going on with Steve. Or something going on with Nat. Or maybe Steve and Nat. Either way, Tasha would straight up kick his ass if he messed around with someone she was in a relationship with, and Steve, well, Clint had nothing but respect for the man, and really he wouldn’t want to be a sore spot for either of them. 

Obviously it didn’t really matter who Bucky was into or not cause he wasn’t, absolutely not, flirting with him. It was all in Clint’s mind. Then again, Bucky’s tongue has been moistening those killer lips quite a lot and the way he peers down at Clint--alright, so he’s a little taller, no big deal--makes Clint’s heart sputter. He can’t help it. And when he really _does_ think that maybe, quite possibly, Bucky really _is_ flirting with him, Clint is a pile of nerves. 

He can’t remember the last time he was this flustered, not including last week when Tony made him shoot milk out his nose in front of everyone. Now that they’re back in the kitchen, with a promise that Bucky will start cooking-- _really, I swear, Barton, in a minute, I’ll start_ \--and the man keeps casually sliding his hand down Clint’s arm or across his shoulders, Clint starts to babble and blush and can’t get his words out.

So when “Are you hitting on me?” actually spills out of his mouth when Bucky takes a moment to rub his shoulders, Clint can’t even believe his ears. The hands on his shoulders freeze, Clint’s eyes go wide and _way to go, jackass_. He hasn’t screwed something up that fast since he thought it’d be funny to turn the arch-reactor into his own personal popcorn popper. He stiffens when he feels Bucky’s hands slide off of him.

“I’m sorry.” Bucky whispers as he backs away. “I didn’t mean…”  
“No, no!” Clint says a little too urgently, spinning around to look at him. “I like it…”

Well, shit. All he wanted to do was make sure Bucky didn’t feel bad about all this. He hadn’t realized how much he likes it until the words come out of his mouth. But he does. Clint is absolutely, totally into how much Bucky his flirting with him, hitting on him, and he suddenly wants a lot more than that. 

The unsure, awkward expression on Bucky’s face clears when a sly smirk appears on his mouth. Lip tucked under his teeth, he steps closer to Clint, brushing his fleshy hand across the man’s cheek. 

“Oh you like it, huh?”

A quiver slithers down his spine, and a freeze goes through his stomach. Clint swallows the rock in his throat and nods. Bucky steps in closer, slowly, cautiously, like he’s testing the waters to see how far he can go without pissing Clint off. Thing is, Bucky can go far, real far before he oversteps any boundaries and Clint finds himself completely mesmerized by this guy. When Bucky gently rests his right hand at the side of Clint’s face, Clint lets out a contented sigh, and leans comfortably into the touch. Just that bit of contact has Clint’s limp dick twitching and starting to come to life. Eyes closing gently, he takes in a deep breath as Bucky’s thumb start trailing across his jaw line, making its way to his bottom lip. The second Barnes reaches Clint’s lip, he increases the pressure just enough that Clint lets his mouth fall open, hoping to suck that thumb in. Only Bucky doesn’t let him. Instead, he pulls his finger away and Clint opens his eyes to see that little shit with such a smug grin on his face he’d punch him if he didn’t want this so bad. 

Without a word, Bucky uses his left hand to effortlessly pull the chair Clint’s on away from the table and then guides him to his feet. Clint has no idea what he plans on doing, or if he should say something or ask, or _fuck it, just let this happen, please_.

“You want this, Barton?” Bucky asks, his voice rich with wicked seduction and as patient as dust. 

And then suddenly Clint is worried about taking advantage of someone that might not quite grasp what’s going on. It’s only been a year since Barnes escaped the clutches of HYRDA and from what Clint knows his recovery has been a big priority for everyone. Clint fucks a lot of things up, but this is one thing he can’t. Too much is at stake. 

“Do _you_ want this?” Clint questions. “I mean, _I_ want this. But…I mean…do…”

Before he could finish voicing his question, Bucky’s beautiful, luscious lips are pressed against him and whoever he learned to kiss with in the good ol’ days really did a bang up job cause this fucker can kiss like the Devil. _God damn it’s good_. Bucky’s smooth tongue runs along Clint’s mouth, seeking entrance. Letting him in, Clint is sure this is going to be a hell of a lot different than what he’s used to. Just from kissing the guy alone has Clint’s dick filling between his legs. 

All Barnes does next is lean up close enough to Clint that he’s able to feel the bulge in Bucky’s pants against his own and Clint moans into the kiss. He can feel Bucky laugh, _fucking laugh_ , against his mouth like the noise amuses him. Clint’s eyes open to see that those steely blues are piercing into his, swimming with lust and desire. With a flick of his brow, Bucky moves his lips away from Clint’s mouth, but keeps them pressed up against his skin. He starts sucking on his neck, pulling Clint in close and almost roughly and _shit that feels great_. If Bucky can get him so wound up just with this alone, Clint can’t _imagine_ what else he could do with those lips of his. 

Knees beginning to shake, Clint wraps his arms around Bucky’s neck and dips lower in an attempt to bring their lips together again. Only Bucky doesn’t let him. He dodges Clint’s mouth, not once, but twice.

“The hell are you doing?” Clint mutters. “Fucking kiss me already.” 

Bucky then leans even closer, making Clint have to bend back a bit as Bucky braces both hands on the table. Trapped between Bucky’s arms, his left arm making a quiet noise as it recalibrates to handle the weight he’s putting down on it, Clint peers up at him. 

“You like that, Clint?” Bucky murmurs. “You like my mouth?”

Clint’s own mouth hangs open slightly as he can do nothing but focus on those lips of his, plump and full and slightly redder than usual. All he can manage is a nod. Bucky presses his teeth into his lower lip, brushing his fingers through his hair, and moves in like he’s going to kiss him again. He stops just in front of Clint’s lips, so close Clint can feel the heat coming from him. Because he stops, and Clint so badly wants that mouth against his again, he moves forward. But this asshole is ready for that and jerks back. He does it _again_ , dodging him for the _fourth fucking time_ , when Clint tries again. 

“Fucking eh, _Barnes_ , what the hell?”  
Bucky sniggers, his lips curling up in a deviant smirk. “If you want me to kiss you, stop your fidgeting and let me kiss you.”

It clicks then, and Clint holds back a sigh. Bucky must sense this, since he cocks his head and then slowly, tauntingly slowly, begins to lick his own hand. His tongue glides over his palm, he sucks his fingers into his mouth, slicking his hand up with his saliva, all the while staring deeply into Clint’s eyes. Watching that, the way he keeps moving his fingers in and out like he’s trying to get them off, makes Clint’s heart pound and an embarrassing whimper escapes his lips. 

“You gonna be good now?” Bucky asks, in between sucking on his fingers. “And do as you're told?”

So preoccupied with watching that little show, Clint needs to remember to breathe. He swallows the hard lump in his throat. Before he gets the chance to answer, Bucky slides his metal fingers at the very top of Clint’s pants. His thumb tugs them open just a bit, just enough so that he can put his moistened hand down them. The second his hand is close to Clint’s dick, he stops and smirks again, eyebrows up and waiting for Clint’s reply. 

Clint’s lip quivers slightly and he sucks in a few ragged breaths. He stills himself and _damn it to hell, I can’t believe I’m letting this shit call the shots here_. 

“Yeah,” He whispers. “Yeah, okay.”  
“Okay? Okay…” Bucky pauses and licks his lips. “Okay what?”  
“Christ, Barnes…” But Bucky only waits longer, like he’s willing to either wait for the right answer or stop. Clint doesn’t think he’ll _really_ stop, since he seems just as eager to keep going as he does, but there’s no way Clint’s taking that chance. “I’ll...I’ll be good.”

The answer is immediately rewarded by Bucky wrapping his moist hand around Clint’s dick. He strokes back and forth, increasing pressure, decreasing pressure, going faster, going slower and no matter how much Clint has perfecting jerking himself off, having Sergeant Bucky Barnes do it is the bee’s fucking knees. He tosses his head back and then forward, his forehead landing on Bucky’s left shoulder. There’s a tapping noise when his brow hits the spot his metal arm connects to his body. It hurts a little, hurts enough that he grunts, and it makes Bucky laugh, but Clint doesn't fucking care, not as long as he keeps doing what he’s doing with that hand. 

He doesn’t realize it, not until Bucky’s metal hand tightly grips his hip, but Clint starts rocking his hips, trying to move in rhythm with Bucky’s strokes. 

“Uh-ah,” Bucky purrs. “Good boys don’t move unless they’re told they can.”  
“Fuck,” Clint mutters, and would be rolling his eyes if _it didn’t feel so fucking good_. “M’sorry.”  
“I’ll forgive you this one time.” He licks the side of his neck and then proceeds with what he was doing. “Take your shirt off.”

The command barely even registers and Clint’s shirt is behind him, probably on the table. He doesn’t really give a damn _where_ the stupid thing ends up, especially not when Bucky’s free hand, that metal hand of his, starts caressing his chest. Clint gives out a little yelp when he feels his nipple pinched and then moans when Bucky starts to suckle on the other. Bucky pulls his hand away from Clint’s dick--earning another himself another one of Clint’s whimpers--and kisses his way down his chest, as he slowly gets to his knees. 

“Let’s free this guy, shall we?” He suggests, shimmying Clint’s sweatpants down to his knees. 

The second his dick springs out Bucky gives it a little lick, but does nothing else. Clint is panting, and trying like fucking hell not to move. Tip shiny with precome, he wants that mouth, that beautiful fucking mouth, around all of it. His toes curl when Bucky touches him with his tongue again. Still, he goes no further, and just continues to give him little kitten licks, even lapping gently at his balls. Though he’s not supposed to move, Barnes has said nothing about him making noise, so Clint let’s out several needy moans.

“Shit, Barnes…” He gasps and clenches all his muscles. “ _Please_ …”  
“Mmm,” Bucky hums with a lick of his lips. “Tastes good.”

Clint practically screams with sheer delight and absolute amazement when Bucky suddenly rams his mouth onto his dick. He doesn’t do it on purpose, he _really, truly_ doesn’t, but his hips thrust forward and the next thing he knows both of Bucky’s hands are on his hips and he’s standing again. 

“Fuck, shit, Barnes, I’m sorry,” He stutters. Bucky waves his finger slowly, as if to say tsk-tsk. “ _Barnes_ , it was an accident.”  
Bucky nods once. “I believe you. But good boys do as they’re told. Are you a good boy or a bad boy?”  
“I’m…” _Fuck why is this making me even hotter?_ “I’m a good boy.”  
“That’s what I like to hear.”

He takes Clint’s hand and presses it against his own cock, just to show him how hard he is. Bucky moves away and sits down on the chair. Curling his index finger, he beckons Clint over and then points to his lap. 

“Shit…” Clint breathes. “You’re gonna spank me, aren’t you?”  
“You wanna be a good boy, don’tchya?”

God yes. Yes, he wants to be a good boy for him, if only to get that talented, devilish mouth around him again. And it’s not like he’s never been spanked before. Clint’s done some kinky shit in his life that didn’t start and end with just spanking. But this is the Winter Soldier they’re talking about. A god damn famous assassin ghost story and he wants to bend Clint over his knee and spank him for disobeying. If that doesn’t turn Clint on even more than his dick is doing some crazy shit tonight. 

Pants at his ankles, he steps forward, gulping, only slightly, in an attempt to not let Bucky see, but by the sly grin on his face, Clint’s sure he has. Once he’s close enough, Clint lowers himself over Bucky’s lap, the humiliation of the entire situation making his cock ache and get all wet around the tip again. He’s only halfway down when Bucky grabs him by the chin to stop.

“Say red if it’s too much,” He says.

And that there is all Bucky, the Bucky Clint has come to know, not this new Bucky that was ridiculously hot--Clint is not about to admit, not yet, that he’s always found Bucky hot--and very intriguing. Clint nods in agreement, and new Bucky is back again, pushing him forward so that he’s laying across his legs, palms against the floor. 

The first hit lands hot and hard, but not too hard across his right cheek, stinging like a motherfucker as the sensation spreads then fades. A yelp is ripped from Clint’s throat and he jerks up, only to be held down by Bucky’s left arm. He can feel the slight coolness of the metal, the hardness of it as it holds him in place and Bucky’s flesh hand slaps down on Clint’s left cheek. His ass is already warming up and his dick twitches every time his balls wiggle from the impact. He moans through each hit, fire spreading across the area and cock starting to throb at it. After five times, Bucky rubs his hand firmly over the spot he hits, and Clint’s pretty sure that he’s spit on his hand since it’s emotionally comforting, but it stings even more. 

Clint gets ten strikes altogether before Bucky whispers, “Good boy” and gently trails his fingers over Clint’s red hot ass. He’s given a little bit of time to calm down--which is good cause he’s completely out of breath. It gives him the chance to feel just how hard Bucky his, his cock pricking him in the stomach through his pants, and now all Clint can think about it getting _his_ mouth around that. 

“Come on,” Bucky murmurs, guiding him back up to his feet. He doesn’t get up though. Instead he leads Clint to stand in front of him. “Took your spankin’ real good,” There’s a Brooklyn accent hidden somewhere in there--Clint can just making out the start of it. “Lemme help a fella out. You be good now.” He adds as a reminder to keep still 

Bucky gives his cock one long lick, from tip to balls, even letting his tongue lick there as well. He does this several times until all the sweat is back clinging to Clint’s whole body and he struggles so much with trying not to move and _shit, oh shit that’s just too good_. When Bucky finally takes him into his mouth again--giving Clint some relief against the ache that was building--he moves slow, eating more and more of him until his lips are against his belly and it takes all Clint has not to rock. Clint runs his hands over his face, tugging at his hair a bit and wants to scream every profanity at the man when he realizes that Bucky’s eyes have lifted as though _daring_ him to move. Smirking around his dick-- _look at this fucker, fucking smiling like that_ \--Bucky starts to move back and forth. 

“Holy shit…” Clint moans. “Fuck yeah that’s it. Oh fuck, Barnes…”

Clint wants to knot his fingers though Bucky’s mess of brown locks, but refrains, not knowing if that’s something he should do. The struggle not to move is maddening and it clearly spurs Bucky on even more since his hands fondle his balls to cause him even _more_ of a struggle. He’s only vaguely aware of saying Bucky’s name over and over again as he takes him as deep into his throat as he can, until spit is covering his chin and running down between them. Clint knows he close, feels it deep in his bones, and wants to cry when Bucky lets his dick slip from his mouth, a line of drool connecting them to each other for just a second. 

Without him noticing, Bucky had shed his shirt and _fuck it all_ this guy must be chiseled out of perfection. Props to Rogers and Tasha if there _is_ something going on with Barnes cause Clint’s not sure if he’s seen anything more beautiful. That is, until Bucky works his own pants down and now Clint can see the whole picture and _fuck_ if this man’s not just a piece of art made out of flesh. Licking his lips, Clint is aching to put his mouth on him just to see if he tastes as good as he looks.

Bucky takes hold of his hand and tugs on it just enough to get Clint down onto his knees. He spreads his legs.

“Does my good boy want some?” He drawls.  
“Yes…” Clint answers and just for good measure adds, “Please?”

That ‘please’ must have done something to Bucky’s insides since his cheeks fill with a blush and he just nods, extending the invitation to go ahead. On his knees, Clint shuffles closer and wastes no time wrapping his lips around that cock. _Fuck it all, he **does** taste as good as he looks._

At first, Clint wonders if he could turn the tables, maybe take control of all this. Then he realizes that he’s conceded the lead to Bucky and fucking _loves_ it. Instead of giving that a try, he just keeps going, growing excited and pleased when the soft groan and his name come out of Bucky’s mouth. 

Bucky’s cock is still inside Clint’s mouth when he reaches down and starts jerking Clint off again. Mouth still full, Clint groans around Bucky’s dick and that makes Bucky’s head dip forward. Though he has no intention on trying to switch their roles, Clint wonders just how far he can push Bucky into bliss before he comes undone. He sucks harder, faster, uses his hands so that there isn’t one part of Bucky’s dick that’s not being touched at any given moment. Those penetrating eyes of his are drooped closed and his lips part just enough that air puffs out of them. 

When Bucky’s eyes pop open, the almost dazed in pleasure look shifts to determination, and he smirks, like he'd been fucking with Clint the whole time. His hand starts moving faster and _holy shit it’s just too good_ and he can’t keep his mouth around Barnes anymore. He jerks up as the orgasm hits him fast and hard, ripping damn near a yell from his throat and making all of him shake. The second it hits, Barnes chuckles, and there’s no _way_ Clint is about to let that go unheeded. He grabs onto Bucky’s dick, still sloppy and wet from his mouth, before his ride is even fully over and starts jerking him off like mad. 

The sensation must catch him off guard since Bucky gasps, grabs both of Clint’s biceps and holds on for dear life. His hips thrust across the seat of the chair and when Clint feels the pulse beat within his palm, he breaks free from Bucky’s desperate hold to suck him back into his mouth. A noise, somewhere between a yelp and a groan, starts rising out of Bucky’s throat just before he bursts, shooting off in Clint’s mouth. 

For a few moments, Clint just keeps his head in Bucky’s lap, resting comfortably on his thigh. Bucky takes to petting him, gently running his metal hand over his hair. Clint is waiting for the awkward to hit, that moment when Bucky catches up to him and realizes what’s happened and isn’t sure how the other feels about it and…

“Why don’t you shower?” Bucky suggests softly, nothing about his tone indicating there’s even the slightest bit of regret. “Dinner’ll be ready when you’re out.”

Bucky guides his chin up so that they can look at each other. He smiles down at him, those lips still as gorgeous and tempting as they were when Clint was lost in his haze of lust and pleasure. Clint agrees and Bucky helps him back to his feet. 

Dinner is pleasantly normal, and they talk like nothing happened, mostly due to Bucky moving the conversations on because Clint can’t think of a damn thing to say that probably won’t come out sounding ridiculous. They do dishes together, packing away the leftover chicken cutlets that are probably better than Clint’s mama’s but he’ll never say _that_ out loud lest she rise from the grave and smack him off side the head. For the rest of the evening, they lounge around the living room, watching T.V., drinking a few beers and just hanging out like they have in the past. Bucky’s back to the Bucky Clint was used to, somewhat closed off, somewhat chatty and it isn’t until Clint is in bed reading, ready to click the lights off that he realizes Bucky needs something from him. 

His heart stops, really, he swears it, it stops for a second when he sees Bucky standing in the doorway, silent and unmoving. 

“Christ on a pogo stick, _Barnes_ , don’t _do_ that.” He says. “Not everyone can move like water over rocks, yanno. And sides’” Clint reaches for his hearing aides on the nightstand. “S’not fair you sneaking up on me when I can’t hear at all.”  
“M’sorry.”

Bucky grins at him from the spot he’s in, but doesn’t come in the room anymore. He just stands there, fiddling with his fingers and looking down at his feet. And this guy is _not_ the same one who bent Clint over his knee just a few hours ago to spank him. He’s not even the same guy who easily made small talk and kept things from being anywhere _near_ awkward. Clint had gone to his room thinking things were gonna be cool, wondering maybe if they’d do it again sometime. Now he’s not so sure, not with Bucky standing there shifting his weight back and forth between his legs. 

When Bucky tucks his lip under his teeth, it hits Clint. He _has_ seen this Bucky before. The expression’s just never been directed at him, only Tasha and Rogers, occasionally Pepper and even Stark. Clint puts his book to the side and opens his arms. 

“Come on, Barnes.” He murmurs, inviting Bucky into his bed. 

Bucky lights up with a smile and curls into his arms as Clint slides down to his pillow, Barnes’ head on his chest. Clint combs his fingers through the man’s hair like he’s seen others do dozens of times which usually makes Bucky melt. It must do the trick here, too, since Bucky nuzzles against him. 

It’s quiet for a long time, Clint drifting off to sleep and assuming Bucky’s doing the same until he speaks. 

“Clint?”  
“Mmm?”  
“Did you like dinner?”  
“Yeah, Barnes.”

Another minute or two goes by. 

“Clint?”  
He holds in a sigh “Yes?”  
“Did you like my breakfast?”  
“Yes.” He sighs the word, turning the end of it like it came out of a snake. 

Yet few more minutes goes by. 

“Clint?”  
“What?”  
“What do you want for lunch tomorrow?”  
“I don’t fucking know. I just want to sleep.”

When a least five minutes goes by in silence, Clint thinks it’s safe.

“Clint?”  
This time Clint can _hear_ the little shit’s smile in his voice.  
“Barnes, I swear to God…”

But Bucky is laughing and Clint can’t go on, especially when he lifts himself up and hovers over him for a moment. Clint eyes him, unsure what he’s doing and that _can’t_ be another seductive glint in his eyes. No _way_ is he going to pull him back into the devilish grasp. 

“Let’s do it again.” Bucky purrs and gives Clint no chance to accept or decline--yeah, as if he _wants_ decline--before burying Clint’s flaccid dick back into his mouth.


End file.
